“Closest point’s about a mile. Jake’s got a nice boat that’s docked about four miles from here. He likes to go out on the bay in his boat and catch the bigger fish. Of course, there aren’t many of those left. The Chesapeake Bay has been fished to death, and parts of it need cleaning; a lot of weeds giving off carbon dioxide.”
She put the food on a tray and took it into the dining room, went back into the kitchen and got plates, glasses, and utensils. “Come on,” she said. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep you from starving.” After setting the table, she beckoned Allison. They sat down, and Annie Covington reached out to hold the hand of her guest, bowed her head, and said grace.
“This is wonderful,” Allison said of the crab cakes, potato salad, hot buttermilk biscuits, and sliced tomatoes. “Jake said he likes gourmet cooking, but that he loves soul food. I can see why. The biscuits are a miracle.”
She marveled that they talked as if they knew each other well, attributing this mostly to Annie Covington’s earthy charm and genuineness.
“I’ll bring us some coffee in the living room and we can talk where it’s comfortable,” Annie said.
Allison glanced around from the walnut Thomasville dining set to the Royal Bakara carpet that nearly covered the large room, the sconces with electric candles on the off-white walls, and the big stone fireplace in a far corner that marked the room as a place of welcome.
“This is as comfortable as a room can be,” she said, walking behind her host toward the living room.
Annie brought the coffee service and sat facing Allison. “Let’s get this out of the way, dear,” she said. “You’re in love with Jake. Does he know it?”
Allison nearly spilled the coffee on her skirt. So they were going to be candid, and she was glad, because she felt more comfortable with her cards on the table.
“Yes, I am, and he knows it. What he doesn’t know is that I’m here, and when he finds out he isn’t going to flash that famous grin of his.”
“I imagine not; he doesn’t like to be crossed. Now, what can I tell you?”
She looked into the woman’s eyes, kind and gentle, older versions of the eyes she loved so dearly. “I don’t know how old he was the first day he went to school, what kind of grades he made, what he excelled at, whether he graduated with honors. None of that. Was he obedient as a child, or was he stubborn and hardheaded? What made him into the man he is today?”
Annie leaned back and crossed her right knee over her left one. “What kind of man do you think he is?”
Fair enough, Allison thought. You can’t answer a question unless you know what it means. She opened her mouth and embarrassment flooded her. “He’s...he... I think he’s a wonderful man, but I can’t put that in my report.”
The woman nodded. “Hmm. I see what you mean. The woman who loves him is interfering with the gal who has to write a story on him. I don’t envy you.”
Annie folded her arms and began to talk—about their life before her husband died, Jake’s life as a child, and the hardships they all endured. She closed her eyes as she spoke of Jake’s honors, his graduation from high school as class valedictorian with a four-year fellowship to the university. Tears dripped from the corners of her eyes when she told of his graduation from college summa cum laude, of his subsequent graduate degree.
The moisture from her eyes pooled in her lap when she said, “Look at this house. It wasn’t much more than a shack, but from the time Jake got his first paycheck, he set out to make my life as pleasant as he could. He rebuilt and furnished this place. I used to work until my fingers hurt, but not any longer. I don’t need all the money he sends me. No woman could want a more faithful, more loyal son.”
Allison stopped writing. “Nothing you’ve said surprises me. I know him to be an honorable man with laudable principles.” She closed her notebook. “I’d better start back, though I am reluctant. I have loved this time with you. I hope Jake knows how fortunate he is to have you as his mother.”
Annie stood, dabbing at her reddened eyes. “Stay the night. It’s too late for you to start that long drive back. I have toothbrushes, I’ll give you a gown, and you can wash your underwear and dry them in the dryer.” She smiled. “I’d love for you to stay.”
Supper consisted of stewed collards, fried chicken, candied sweet potatoes, and baked corn bread. “I’ve got apple turnovers for dessert,” Annie said when Allison pulled her chair back.
She patted her belly. “Thanks, but I’m about to pop. I’ll take a couple of those to eat on the way back, though.”
“One thing I didn’t tell you,” Annie said as they cleared the table and straightened the kitchen. “I’ve got one complaint against my son.” Guessing what that was, Allison didn’t encourage her to continue. However, Annie evidently didn’t need encouragement.
“I’m sixty,” she said, “and if I’m ever going to have any grandchildren, I want them while I’m still young enough to enjoy them. But every time I mention it, my son changes the subject.”
Allison couldn’t suppress the laughter that finally spilled out of her. “Sorry,” she said, “but if you heard him talk about that, you wouldn’t worry. He says it’s the one thing he can’t contemplate living without, and that he will not compromise on it.”
Annie dropped a plate in the sink and turned to face Allison. “Why on earth did he say that? Don’t you want children?”
“Oh, yes, I do. He was letting me know his position on the matter. As I recall, he didn’t ask how I felt about it.”
“You’ve never married?” Allison shook her head. “Are these men crazy? I certainly hope Jake’s got some sense.”
They watched an old Humphrey Bogart movie, and at about nine-thirty Annie announced it was her bedtime. “By the way, Allison. Mind if I call you that?”
“Please do.”
“What month were you born in?”
“February seventeenth is my birthday.” Annie smiled. “You’re smiling. Why?”
“Jake’s part Leo and part Virgo. Great pairing with Aquarians.”
Not wanting to show her hand, Allison joked, “My lips are sealed, Mrs. Covington.”
“They may be sealed, but I hope that, given the chance, they’ll unglue themselves long enough to say two words.”
Allison wanted to hug the woman. Perplexed as to how she should respond, she took the toothbrush and nightgown Annie handed her and, on an impulse, kissed the woman’s cheek.
“I’ll find the laundry room. Good night and thanks for...for everything.”
She showed Allison the guest room. “Good night, dear, and God bless you.”
How will I tell him I did this? He will be mad enough to eat nails, and he might even attempt to break our relationship. But I’m not going to let him do that. I believe he loves me, and I can truthfully tell him, I didn’t ask his mother anything he wouldn’t want known.
She mused over those thoughts. Annie Covington hadn’t said anything she wouldn’t have said in Jake’s presence. She never mentioned where he works or what his occupation was before he wrote that book. Hmmm.
The next morning, after the kind of breakfast she ate only at her aunt Frances’s house, Allison prepared to leave. “Thanks for being so kind to me,” she told Annie. “I mean, my own mother wouldn’t have made me so comfortable or feel so welcomed.”
A frown darkened Annie’s countenance. “What a pity. Here’s my phone number. I want you to call me when you get home, and please come back to see me.” The woman opened her arms and let Allison know the strength of a mother’s affection.
Allison didn’t say goodbye, because the words somehow seemed inappropriate. She took the bag Annie handed her, whispered her thanks, got into her car, and drove off without looking back. At the end of the road, she stopped, parked the car, and let the tears fall. What she wouldn’t give to have a
mother like Annie Covington!
Chapter 10
Jake walked out of the Senate hearing, stopped at the watercooler, and wet his throat. So intent had he been on answering the senators’ questions as accurately as he could that he hadn’t thought to drink the water provided for him. He knew he would be forgiven if he made an error, but he was also aware that, on some matters, his would be the only reliable information available to the committee, so he did his best.
“Fine job, Covington,” a member of the committee said to him as he was leaving the area. “I don’t know where you get the nerve to do some of the things you’ve done, but I am certainly grateful that you have it.”
“Thank you, sir, but I’m not longer an undercover agent. Haven’t been for the last four and a half years.”
“I know,” the man replied, “and it’s a damned pity. I hope they do well by you over there.”
“I’ve been promised a promotion when I return to duty full-time.”
The senator took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Jake. “If it’s not in your first paycheck, call me. I’ll take care of it.”
Jake thanked the man, and hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to pressure to get what the chief volunteered. He’d never had to fight for a promotion; his work did that for him. He got his suitcase and topcoat from the cloakroom and headed for the exit. Outside in the clear, brisk, early September day, he walked half a dozen blocks for the exercise, hailed a taxi, and went home.
Three phone calls to Allison’s home brought no answer, and although he wanted to call her at her office, he hesitated to cause her problems with her boss in the event that she was not at work. Sleepy, washed out, and with plenty of work to do but no interest in doing it, he dialed her number again and again. Finally, he left a message, “Almost every time I need you, I can’t find you,” fell across his bed, kicked off his shoes, and slept.
He awakened shortly after six in the evening, hungry and annoyed at himself for not having disrobed, gotten into bed, and favored himself with a proper rest. He dialed Allison’s number again, but to no avail. Frustrated and fighting back fear for her well-being, he phoned the Hyatt Regency in San Antonio and learned that she had checked out that morning. A call to the airline yielded the information that she was aboard her flight to Washington and that the plane landed safely. Increasingly concerned, he considered telephoning her aunt Frances in Idlewild and thought better of it. He showered, made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, got a glass of milk, and watched the evening news while he ate. But he absorbed nothing that he saw and heard, for he couldn’t move his mind off Allison.
She said she wasn’t interested in any other man, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t seeing one. Something’s holding her back. I don’t know her any better than she knows me.
“Oh, hell!” he said aloud. “Why am I being unfair to her? Maybe she went on a short assignment. Who knows? It will be time to worry if she doesn’t meet me at the airport Monday morning.”
Once more, concern for possible danger prevented him from immersing himself in his music as he did what he loved best, playing his guitar in Blues Alley with Buddy Dee’s band. And Allison remained on his mind. At the end of the first set, glancing around the club, he saw the woman who usually visited the club with her, though her companion that night was a man, a familiar man. He shifted that around in his mind and decided it had no bearing on Allison’s whereabouts.
The long and painful evening finally ended. He left the club—watchful and cautious as he did so—hailed a taxi, and headed home. After a fitful, restless night, he crawled out of bed, refreshed himself with a hot shower, made coffee, heated some frozen Belgian waffles in the toaster, poured maple syrup on them, and ate his breakfast. Ordinarily, he liked waffles, but not that morning; he forced them down.
I can’t call her this early, he told himself. It wouldn’t be proper. She’ll think I’m checking up on her. Nonetheless, he was reaching for the telephone when it rang and his heartbeat picked up speed like a car with a jammed accelerator.
“Hello,” he said, making an unsuccessful effort to keep his voice normal.
“Say, man. I thought I’d better get you early.”
Jake let out a long sigh of disappointment. “What’s up?” he asked Duncan Banks.
“Justine bought me this fantastic outdoor grill for my birthday. It’s even got a spit that you can roast a twenty-pound turkey on. Man, this thing rocks. We’re going to try it out this evening. Can you come over? It’ll be just us. Our housekeeper’s been marinating chops and chicken for a couple of days, and I don’t know what else she’ll have there for me to cook. Justine says if you don’t come, you’ll be on her blacklist.”
“And we certainly don’t want that. What time?”
“Come over about five. We’ll catch up.”
“All right. This wouldn’t be your birthday, would it?”
“Well, yeah. According to my mother.”
For the first time in two days, he found something to laugh about. “Occasionally, I forget that the Banks humor begins and ends with your sister, Leah.”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t tell her that. She’s smart-assed enough as it is.”
“She’ll be surprised to know that. See you around five.”
He hung up and dialed Allison’s number again, but got no response.
Out of sorts about Allison, and feeling the need to exercise, he decided to jog around the park, but remembered that he hadn’t spoken with his mother since returning from San Antonio. He checked his watch, saw that it was just after nine—already late in the morning for his mother—and dialed her number.
“How are you, Mom?” he said when she answered.
“I’m just fine, son. I just came in from the bay with half a bushel of crabs, and I was about to put them to boil when the phone rang. Wind was a little brisk out there, but it felt good.”
He thought he detected an airiness about her. “You sound great, Mom.”
“And you don’t. Maybe if you could get a few days on your boat before winter sets in, you’d perk up. Not sick, are you?”
“No. I’m fine.”
“Well, if you are you don’t sound like it. You ought to be rejoicing and thanking the Lord; your book’s on two bestseller lists.”
“I am, Mom.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have called her; she had the ability to detect his every mood. “I was about to go jogging and thought I’d call you.”
“Now this doesn’t sound a bit like you. What you need is a loving girl, but I’ll bet you look right through the one who’s perfect for ya.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Course you don’t. Just like a man. Can’t see the forest for the trees.”
His antenna shot up. His mother excelled at hinting, dropping bits of information that she wanted you to have, when she had no intention of telling the whole story unless you asked her. In that way, she couldn’t be accused of gossiping, and if she told you something you didn’t want to hear, she could answer, “Well, you asked me.”
“What are you getting at, Mom? Who and what are you talking about?”
“Oh, son, don’t feign ignorance. I’m talking about Allison, that lovely girl you’re touring with.”
He jumped out of the chair, nearly jerking the phone cord from the wall socket. “What do you know about her?”
“She’s a wonderful girl; that’s what I know.”
His fingers plowed through his hair, and he looked toward the ceiling, exasperated. “Mom, will you please stop this and answer me straight? What do you know about Allison?”
“If you’re uptight right now, you deserve it. I’m always asking you to find a nice girl...”
He sat down and waited.
“...and bring her to see me. Well, I met her. We had a lovely vi
sit. She spent the night with me and left here about an hour ago. I—”
“She what?”
“I said she left here about an hour ago.”
Sweat poured from his forehead, and he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the back of his neck. His mother was the one person he’d always counted on to be there for him, dependable and aboveboard. Now she... He corrected himself. Maybe he was losing his mind.
“Mom, would you please start at the beginning and tell me everything?”
“I will, but you relax. Allison said you’d get bent out of shape when you found out she came to see me. But I can’t see why. She’s a wonderful girl.”
“Just start at the beginning, please, Mom.”
He listened as his mother recalled Allison’s visit with her, beginning with the minute she heard the Mercury Sable come to a halt in front of her house. She ended by saying, “I told her to come back to see me as soon as she can, and don’t you scold her. You hear?”
Scold her. Scold her! He’d like to shake her. “You’re telling me those are the only questions she asked you?”
“Right, and those are the only answers I gave her. Seems to me if she got close enough to you to love you, you could have told her when and where you were born.”
“If she got... Wait a minute. I thought you said that was all you talked about.”
“It was all. I guessed she was in love with you from the way she spoke about you, and she admitted it. All there was to it.”
“I don’t care. If she knew I wouldn’t like what she did, she shouldn’t have gone to see you without—”
Her snort, a wordless reprimand, didn’t surprise him. “Don’t say to me Allison should have asked your permission to do anything. She’s thirty years old and doesn’t need your permission or anybody else’s.”
“All right. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but how could she go behind my back and—”
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